


Take Me To The River

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gun Kink, Gun play, M/M, Serious Dub-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert doesn't let Valjean go immediately after the sewers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To The River

**Author's Note:**

> Written for jamagotchi.

“Please, Javert,” Valjean takes a hesitant step forward. “Just let me take him to his home and then I’m yours.”

Words, always words. Valjean has a thousand excuses ready at his lips and Javert feels that he has heard them all.

“No.”

The word makes Valjean flinch. “Javert.”

Javert raises his pistol. “You are mine _now_.” The matter is simple when it comes down to it. Valjean is in his custody. He can do with him as he likes. He can ignore the pleading look in Valjean’s eyes and drag him off to prison. He can let the boy die; the boy matters little.

But the look in Valjean’s eyes cuts him to the bone once again.

“Come with me.” Javert orders, keeping the pistol raised.

Valjean walks before him uncertainly, Javert urging him along until they reach the riverside.

“Put the boy down.”

“Javert.” Valjean turns and Javert raises the pistol to his temple, letting the barrel press against his skin.

“You will do as I say, 24601, and then we will see.”

Valjean understands then, and lowers the youth to the ground. “What do you want?”

Javert nods at the river. “You stink as badly as the sewers of Paris themselves. Rinse yourself off.”

Valjean’s still reluctant to obey, Javert can see it in his limbs, but at least he lowers himself into the river, washing away the filth. Javert stands over him as he has done so many times before.

He doesn’t let Valjean up until he’s satisfied.

Valjean hauls himself up on the pavement, shaking the water from his clothes and hair like a dog. “Now what?” He’s half crouching, half kneeling before Javert.  His attention wanders though, to the prone youth beside them.

“Do not take that tone with me.” Javert snaps at him. He should arrest Valjean here and now. Yet the memory of the barricade, and the alley afterward, keeps him there.

Valjean’s shoulders sag slightly. “I meant no disrespect,” he says quietly. “Only that the boy’s health is fading fast, so say what you will, and then, I beg of you, let me take him home.”

Javert crouches beside the unconscious figure, checking his pulse. “He will live.” He straightens up again.

“You don’t know that for certain,” Valjean argues, as he argues everything _. The pickpocket deserves to be let go. Just because the widow can’t afford to pay her rent doesn’t mean she should be evicted.  Let the beggar children play in the town square, what does it matter if they block the path of honest men?_

So many excuses. When Valjean was mayor, Javert was forced to listen to them then. Now he has no such duty.

“Enough.” He tilts the pistol under Javert’s chin. “Enough, I say.”

Valjean stills, swallowing against the gun barrel.

The gesture calms something inside Javert. “Stand up and brace your hands along the wall.” He nods to the wall opposite the river.

“What of,”

“Do as I say, 24601, and I will let you take your precious charge home.”

It’s almost amusing how quickly Valjean rushes to follow his orders then.

Javert follows him across the pavement. The night is dark, no one is walking here along the river to disturb them.

Valjean places his hands flat against the wall, waiting for whatever Javert does next. His clothes are soaked, slick against his skin, but at least he’s clean. His shirt clings to his shoulders; Javert can see the outline of every muscle. It’s the same for his trousers.

Javert’s cock stirs, and he decides, in that instant, the manner of Valjean’s punishment.

“Lower your trousers.”

Valjean looks at him over his shoulder, confusion there in his eyes, but Javert merely returns his gaze and at last Valjean slowly unfastens his trouser, pushing them down to his ankles.

Javert works the underclothes down Valjean’s thighs himself.  

“Has it been so long since Toulon, 24601, that you don’t remember how it feels?”

Valjean stiffens. “No one in Toulon dared lay a hand on me.”

It’s half defensive, half taunt, but Javert merely views it as a challenge. He raises the pistol to Valjean’s head, then draws it down along his back until it reaches his backside. Javert hesitates only a second before rubbing the barrel between Valjean’s cheeks. He strokes it over Valjean’s hole, feeling Valjean tremble at the touch.

“Shall I fuck you with this?” Javert inquires, angling the pistol just right, the tip of the barrel pressing in already.

Valjean draws a ragged breath. “Your cock, please.”

His words send heat rushing to Javert’s groin. “What was that?” He presses harder.

“Fuck me, Javert, with your cock.” Valjean throws the words at him over his shoulder.

Javert lowers the pistol. “As you like.” His words are a mockery and they both know it. But Valjean stands still as Javert undoes his trousers, pressing his hips against the other man’s.

Javert closes his eyes as he enters Valjean, barely able to breathe. He’s dreamt of this for many years, and now, now Valjean’s bracing himself against the wall, practically urging him on. Javert can hardly deny him. His hips thrust rhythmically, his cock glides in and out of Valjean’s hole surprisingly easy despite the lack of preparation.

Valjean grunts, and Javert speeds up his thrusts. “Moan for me.”

“I’m not here for your pleasure,” Valjean spits out, and Javert raises the pistol again, resting it against his throat as he fucks Valjean.

“That’s exactly what you’re here for.” He thrusts harder and Valjean suffers his cry to go un-silenced. The sound curls around Javert’s cock, feeding the fire in his groin as he moves quicker and quicker until Valjean cries out sharply. Abruptly Javert comes, sharp and raw in the darkness, as Valjean’s body holds him there in the night.

He rests his cheek against Valjean’s damp back for the barest of moments, and then pulls away.

They rearrange their clothing in silence.

When Valjean goes to pick up the boy, Javert makes no move to stop him. But he draws quiet satisfaction from the low grunt of discomfort Valjean utters as he crouches down to pick up the boy.


End file.
